


Rewind and Play

by spacefucker



Category: X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Hank is confused, Hope, Hurt/Comfort, Just deal with it, M/M, Small fight, Therapy, accidental wearing of someone's shirt, alex is bipolar bc i said so, alex is just so angry and I get that, and irritated, anger issues, but comes around, good deeds, i think, insecurities and reasurances, oh no alex is sweet what do, raven is mentioned like once maybe, second chapter is all Alex's POV, self-evaluation, slight fudging of timelines, so here is the poor guy working through those problems, thank god for laundry day, the author and his blatant disregard for the rest of the first class team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-19 22:33:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9463178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacefucker/pseuds/spacefucker
Summary: Alex is done letting his anger and hostility keep him from happiness. So he does something about it. Hank is thrown and more than a little angry. What happens when they finally talk about it?





	1. Chapter 1

Almost everything in life is science – where there are more failures than solutions but remains beautiful anyway – and anything other than it is the basic equivalent of a Lincoln-Douglas debate. There’s room for introspection, moral ambiguity, and philosophical leanings in any mind but Hank’s always been much more apt to focus on facts and the hard lines they provide. Clear distinction between fact and fiction drives him because if he can understand then he can problem solve.

It is because he knows there’s always an underlying reason behind everything that Hank makes for both the perfect target for bullying and the perfect person for a bully to choose. Because, and he doesn’t like to brag, but Hank is one of the best at what he does and he just _understands._ It doesn’t mean he excuses the behavior, he just knows why it’s there. So he doesn’t fight back, usually, and takes it in silence.

And that is what pisses Alex Summers off the most.

Because Alex can see that the words have an effect on Hank. He can see the flinches and the faces he pulls – micro expressions conveying hurt, showing that it stings – but he never says anything back. He doesn’t talk about it at all. And of all the things that throws Alex off, it's the soft look of empathy Hank flashes him with his bright, blue eyes. Now Alex is stuck fumbling for answers and forming his own hypothesis for the enigma that is Hank.

See, the thing is: Alex isn’t stupid. He’s introspective – enough time in solitary does that to a person – so he has a pretty good idea of who he is and why he does the things he does. He knows he’s a bully and it isn’t actually something he wants to be but no matter how much he tries the words bubble up almost of their own accord and the next thing he knows he’s standing alone and pissed off someone else.

It’s the commonly unseen and underappreciated duality of man. Alex remembers a time in his life where he was open and kind, a period in which he was hopeful and bright-eyed, and he misses that part of himself. Life has a way of sucking that right out of you and snuffing any optimism out like a candle. Foster homes, homelessness, prison; these are all things that practically curb-stomped the faith right out of Alex.

If there’s one thing that he doesn’t do, though, it’s make excuses. His life and what he’s gone through aren’t excuses they’re just reasons. So he’s trying hard to find reasons to be positive and hope a little. And it’s hard, because there is just the constant, paralyzing fear that any hope he finds will just be ripped from him like he’s not worthy of it in the first place. Which is how he feels anyway.

He has a home now, the school, and people that care about him in one way or another. And even though he’s had slip-ups and been a total tool he’s still there so it gives him a bit of hope to cling onto. It feels fragile and small and it terrifies him but it’s his. And with it he makes it his goal to do better so he actually _deserves_ it.

Alex is painfully aware of the tense dynamic between himself and Hank so he figures it would be best to start small. He’s worried about messing up because being kind and good feels like an atrophied muscle trying to dead-lift but then he remembers that no one expects anything from him and that makes it bearable enough.

Hank’s mind is sharp and while he can be consumed by his work he isn’t blind. A team, like everything in nature, is all about balances and placeholders. There’s a job for everyone and everyone fits – can fit. And even though Alex rubs him the wrong way Hank will still maintain that he serves a purpose. So, suffice it to say, Hank notices.

Alex stands, gathering dirty dishes from the table and Sean speaks up almost uncertainly, “It’s my night to wash.”

“I know.” Alex shrugs. “But you’ve been training all day so I figured I would do them.”

The start of it is so jarring that Hank has to take a moment to process while he stares blankly at Alex. He’s sitting with his mouth open like a fish caught on land and he checks Sean and the rest of the team to make sure he’s heard right. Sean, dutifully looks flabbergasted and unsure, like he thinks it’s a joke – like he’s being punked. A flash of surprise lights up Charles’ face for the barest of moments before he has the decency to school his features and send an award-winning smile Alex’s way.

While the whole exchange happens Hank starts feeling like he is quite possibly in the Twilight Zone or that Alex’s been impersonated because this is completely out of left field. Charles doesn’t look suspicious, though so all Hank’s left to do is stare up at Alex with a furrowed brow and a twist of his lips. As far as scientific documentation and the collection of data goes: Alex has just effectively turned all of Hank’s assumptions on their heads because this isn’t what the progression of Alex’s character should go.

“Wanna hand me your plate, Bozo?” Alex asks, smirk in place and hand outstretched.

It’s such a weird and perplexing dichotomy of action that it takes Hank a moment to do as asked. Raven just laughs and excuses herself, still in awe of the turn of evens. Alex smiles, the smirk is less smug and self-satisfied and more like it’s out of good humor and oh boy, Hank needs to be in his lab for this.

So he makes it down to his work space and promptly pulls out the paperwork he’s compiled on Alex so far and goes over it and recent memory to find the exact moment that instigated this change in behavior. And yes, he’ll admit to having scientific journals on Alex, but to be fair Alex has been – up until now – incredibly predictable and that was something that Hank liked. He could navigate their tense relationship just as long as it was based on predictability. Now it felt as if all of his work thus far was old and now he was worried some of his assumptions and findings are actually unfounded.

Meanwhile, Alex is in the kitchen, starting up a sink of soapy water and humming to himself when Sean passes him by with a friendly slap on the back.

“Thanks man.” Another clap. “When you’re done, if you want, come find me and play a few rounds of pool.”

Alex nods and Sean leaves and he’s surprised at the feeling blooming in his chest because, holy shit, if this is what it feels like when you do something for someone then it’s going to happen more often. He feels appreciated and accepted, he remembers Charles’ smile and the dumbstruck look on Hanks face and he feels lighter than before.

Going out on a limb and risking being mocked was nerve-wracking but definitely worth it. Deciding he likes it, Alex starts planning the next thing to do. Right after a game of pool.

-

Hank is frustrated.

See, there are reasons for everything and so far Hank has been unable to pinpoint the turn of events that has led to Alex’s new personality. Alex has done a barrage of things so far ranging from cleaning up the grounds and working the flowerbeds to preparing dinner for their small team. There’s a small part of Hank that wonders if Alex is building up to something because this change feels so sudden and it’s more than a little jarring because now he’s not sure what their dynamic is anymore.

There is still the name calling but if anything anymore it just sounds fond instead of insulting. It’s disconcerting because Hank finds himself at a loss every time it happens and he knows he looks confused. It is actually starting to upset him that Alex hasn’t deigned to explain anything almost like he’s enjoying watch Hank flounder. And to make matters worse, everyone else on the team has just taken the change in stride and accepting it as is.

As much as he wants to believe in negative, ulterior motives he still can’t find one. Alex’s interest in learning has skyrocketed and has Charles in a great mood. He’s found them on more than one occasion with their heads together talking animatedly. And Alex is simply _glowing_ with all of it now like the sun itself is shining from within and Hank is just uncomfortable about it now.

For a moment he thinks maybe Alex and Charles are together. They’re close now, friends, smiling and happy and Hank feels himself grasping at straws to figure out _why_. But the idea is squashed over the next week.

Alex feels greater and better than he has in a long time and it’s almost like a breath of fresh air because it’s as if he’s more like himself this way. It feels like a relief to unravel the thick ropes of hostility and smooth out his sharp tongue. He still feels it flare up but only in the way he figures it will forever because he can work all he wants but anger is like a sickness that keeps coming back. It’s just now, instead of letting that sickness run its course he’s actually treating it.

And Charles just becomes more and more impressed with him and the affection is something Alex just soaks up because it’s been so long since he’s had so much. He feels a little starved for it and he’s hunting it down where he can. So that’s how he ends up seeing a therapist. It’s a balm in a way he didn’t expect it to be. They talk about his life before and after his parent’s deaths and how foster care felt worse than prison did because at least in prison he could sit in solitary and not worry about anyone else.

They talk about his anger and he learns the things he needs to in order to control it and with each exercise he feels a little bit more in control. It’s just about the most freeing thing for him because his mutation made him suffer alone but now he’s confident.

Sean and he are good friends now and he knows that Sean is still a little mystified about his behavior but is much too happy with the turn of events to say anything. He’s taken to praising Alex about damn near everything and between him and the rest of the team the praise seems practically never-ending. And it’s just so _nice_.

Save for Hank, who now looks less empathetic and more angry and it’s what throws Alex the most because out of everyone he figured that Hank would be the most pleased with the turn of events. Figuring maybe he isn’t trying hard enough with Hank, Alex ups the ante.

He starts by bringing Hank food when he’s got himself locked away in the lab. He doesn’t say much, just lets himself in and drops it off and leaves. He always comes back later to make sure Hank’s actually eaten before taking the plate back to the kitchen. Hank is still just as frustrated and confused but simultaneously thankful and it’s all just a rich tapestry of emotion.

Next, Alex comes in every day in the late afternoon just before dinner and invites Hank out for a run. And it doesn’t work every time because he is busy and has work to do but he finds himself jogging alongside Alex more days than not. They don’t talk, just run and work up a sweat before the split ways to get cleaned up before dinner.

Charles and Sean are happy with the development because now Hank is getting out of the lab and getting that fresh air and stretching his legs. Their little group starts feeling like the team it’s supposed to be.

The final straw happens late one night, probably close to two a.m., with Hank still in his lab hunched painfully over scattered papers with ink stains on his hands and blinking his tired, dried eyes. He hears Alex before he sees him. He has a distinct gait and always gives the door a knocking rendition of shave and a haircut before coming in.

“What are you still doing up?” Alex asks, sleepy.

Hank flashes his eyes up to the nearest reflective surface and catches a look at a sleep-rumpled, flushed and shirtless Alex standing in the doorway with nothing but sweats on and mussed blond hair. Hanks mind automatically supplies the word ‘adorable’ to Alex’s visage and finds himself scowling.

“Working.” He answers, terse.

Alex hums and rubs a hand over his face, “You need sleep.”

“I’ll sleep when I’m done.” Hank almost growls.

“C’mon, you’ve been at it all day. Take a break.”

“I’m fine.”

“Hank,” Alex starts, sighing, and suddenly Hank’s had enough. Calling him by his name instead of Bozo like he’d been used to is the last straw.

So he slaps his hands on the table, causing a few things to clatter on the floor, and twists around to give Alex a look, “What are you doing?”

Alex looks taken aback and blinks, more awake now, “Trying to get you to bed?”

“No.” Hank clenches his jaw, teeth grinding, “I mean why are you doing this? What is this? What’s the motivation?”

“I have to have a motivation to help you?” Alex asks, confused, picking at his nails in that way he does when he’s nervous.

Hank just feels himself unraveling more, “Yes! You’re different now. What happened, why do you care? What do you want from me?”

“I-“ Alex starts, at a loss, “I, uh, well nothing’s _happened._ Why do _you_ care?”

“Because this isn’t you!” Hank snaps. “I want to know _why._ ”

Alex looks angry for the first time in weeks and Hanks actually relieved at the familiar, scowling expression. He can handle this much better than whatever’s been going on lately.

It doesn’t last long, though. After an exhale, a tense count of ten, and a slow inhale Alex’s face relaxes and he shuts his eyes tight for a moment almost like it’s too much for him for a moment. It’s silent for another minute and Hank’s feeling uncomfortable when Alex opens his clear blue eyes and for whatever reason just looks very close to wrecked.

“I don’t understand.” Alex manages, putting his hands up palms out.

Hank snorts, trying hard to look Alex in the face instead of focusing on the V of his hips, “That makes two of us.”

“Out of everyone I thought you of all people would be the happiest.”

“What do you mean?”

Alex crosses his arms and looks lost, “This whole thing. Me being nice.”

Hanks at a loss, staring up at Alex silent, still trying to work out what’s going on in the blonde’s head.

“I get it, ya know.” Alex starts up again, voice soft, “I understand if you hate me. I was a dick.” He shakes his head and chuckles self-deprecatingly. “I deserve it.”

Now Hank feels like an asshole. Here Alex is, someone who has made so much progress, someone who’s been trying. He should have known better than to make assumptions.

“I don’t hate you.” Hank says finally, trying to get Alex to look at him. “I was just…concerned.”

Alex scoffs and hugs himself tighter, “What? Because someone like me can’t change?”

Hank stands and takes a step towards Alex, feeling bad and having to keep himself from reaching out to Alex, “No, you can. It’s just a shock. You’re not predictable anymore.”

“’Predictable’.” Alex intones. “You’re upset that I’m not a bully?”

“No, I’m upset because I knew what to expect and now I don’t. I knew how our relationship worked before. I don’t know,” Hank gestures between them, “what this is, though.”

“I just-“ Alex fumbles, blushing a little across his nose, shocking Hank, “I just was looking out for you.”

“Oh.” Hank says, dumbly, still struck by the way Alex’s blush brings out his freckles. “Thanks.”

Alex laughs, almost to himself, and runs a hand through his hair, “Are you going to go to bed now?”

“I don’t know. It’s not easy for me to sleep.”

“Yeah,” Alex says, yawning, “I get that.”

Work completely forgotten Hank takes another step forward and asks, “Why are _you_ up?”

“Nightmare.” He says honestly. “Hard to go back to sleep when I’ve been woken up.”

Hank understands that and finds himself suggesting, “Do you wanna watch movies until we fall asleep?”

Alex looks shocked for a half second before giving Hank a smile that makes his stomach squirm, and in a good way, “Sure.”

So Alex encourages Hank to change into something comfortable and moves to wait for him in the living room. Hank dresses quickly, stepping out of his cramped shoes and wiggles his toes in relief and tries to not be anxious about being barefoot. He meets Alex and the both lounge on the couch with the TV giving off a glow of white haze. It’s warm and comfortable and strange. Regardless of how warm it is, though, Hank covers his feet as discretely as he can.

Alex’s hand, cold and strong, grips Hank’s forearm and he finds himself staring at the blonde, anxious.

He just smiles, “You don’t have to hide your feet, Hank.”

“You’ve literally called me bigfoot.”

Alex winces, “I did. But I won’t anymore. So you have big feet? So what? They’re cool. Your mutation is beautiful.” Hank scoffs and Alex plows on. “I’m serious! Yours serves a purpose. Mine is just destructive, yours can do so much more than that.”

So Hank uncovers them and Alex offers him a bright, blinding smile. It’s a perfect picture, snuggled on a couch, watching tv in the early hours of the morning with the house still and quiet and _oh no_ , Hank realizes that he likes Alex.

The blonde is just infinitely more complex than Hank had originally thought and he’s somehow managed to change for the better on his own with no outside influence. He’s trying so hard and being just so _good_ that it almost physical pains Hank to look at him almost like he’s trying to stare at the sun.

“You’re beautiful.” Hank blurts and feels the back of his neck heat up.

Alex just smiles and the same blush returns across his nose, “Thanks.”

“I mean it.” Hank soldiers on, committed to this now. “You’re mutation is beautiful, too. The concentration of pure energy and your ability to control it. It’s powerful, sure, but there’s grace in power.”

“Grace.” Alex mutters. “You think my mutation is beautiful?”

He’s feeling brave and like this is his time to chance it, so Hank looks Alex in the eyes and says, “Well, all of you is.”

It’s so quiet for a moment that Hank can hear not only his own heart thundering in his ears but Alex’s, too. Alex’s throat bobs with a swallow and he searches Hank’s eyes for any sign of a joke. There’s none. Hank waits, enjoying looking at Alex, cataloging his expressions and features like he needs to memorize them. He’s worried for half a second that it was the wrong thing to say but is quickly ignored when Alex shoots him a full smile, all teeth, and leans forward to grab onto Hank’s hand.

“Thanks, Hank.” He clears his throat. “Uh, you are, too. Just so you know.”

Hank squeezes his hand and offers up a smile in return and feels himself heat up again, holding Alex’s hand. He drops it, not hard or fast, just slow, and wipes his sweaty hand on his pants. Alex turns from him first and looks back to the tv.

“We’ve missed the beginning of the movie.” Alex laughs.

Hank shakes his head to clear it and gets up to rewind it, “That’s ok. We’ll just start over.”

 


	2. Looks Good on You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot has happened and Hank's been a bit distant. One morning Alex catches him wearing his shirt and decides it's time to prove to Hank that being blue and furry hasn't affected how he feels about him at all.

It was a quiet day by most approximations.

A beautiful Thursday morning with a light fog clinging close to the mansion’s grounds and sunlight filtering soft and warm through large windows. Alex was working on his third cup of coffee and was sitting, barefoot and comfortable in a wingback chair staring out the window like the answers to everything were just outside. Laundry day had been the previous day and Alex was making the most of his freshly cleaned clothes by wearing his favorite pair of faded, worn jeans and a light heather shirt.

He was feeling truly calm for the first time in weeks and it felt nice. Like he was lighter now than he had been. It’d been a rough couple of days of Alex just lying in bed trying to gather the energy to move to the bathroom. After being mentally forced into a shower by Charles and finally finding it in himself to wash and dress he’d managed to get out of his room and enjoy the day. He’d had the occasional flash of irritation this morning but he had a lid on most of it. He felt better, like he was in the right place to confront Hank.

It has been a bit tense since Hank's transformation. They'd made a lot of progress together, before. Alex had finally, truly convinced him that his feet didn't bother him and they'd shared a fair amount of kisses and lingering touches. It had all gone tits-up since the serum, though. He was lucky to catch Hank at all anymore and it was something that he tried desperately not to be upset about.

And so, Alex hadn’t been angry for a little while now and he was clutching onto the peace like a man lost at sea. With him in check his power was in check. Still, though, he's restless and feeling Hank's self-imposed isolation like a deep ache somewhere he can't reach. The whole situation is what places him up at such an early hour, waiting to hear to barest of movements to catch Hank.

Charles passes by the window in his wheelchair and offers up a small wave and a smile still tinged with sadness and Alex smiles back, his own just as sad but for the professor. Sean comes into the picture, jogging up alongside Charles and says something that makes Charles chuckle. They pass and disappear around the corner of the mansion, moving along the scenic walkway around the house.

So he finishes his cup, stands, and stretches like a cat – all rolling muscle and popping joints – and makes his way to the kitchen for some water because it’s probably in his best interest to switch off the caffeine.

It’s at that point that Hank ambles his way into the kitchen looking tired but freshly showered and in desperate need of coffee. Alex moves out of his way, offering up a small smile over his cup of water, and takes the moment to give Hank a once-over like he’s been apt to do lately. Happy to see him even just in a small moment like this.

He feels a little lecherous, honestly, because over the last couple of months he’s found that he had less of a propensity to call Hank names, lovingly or otherwise, and more of one to compliment and shower in praise. Ever since Cuba – maybe even before then – Alex started to admire Hank and his new form. It was a little unfair as far as Hank’s feelings went concerning the whole serum thing to hide his mutation. Being blue and furry was probably the exact opposite of what Hank had wanted to happen.

Hank has poured his cup and doctored it accordingly when it finally clicks for Alex.

“Is that my shirt?” Alex asks, surprised.

Surprised both at the revelation and at how nice it is to see Hank wear something of his like a big neon sign that says, ‘This is Alex’s’. It’s amazing and knocks the breath out of him and he’s sure that if he could see under the fur of Hank’s face he’d be blushing.

“I suppose so.” Hank says, flustered. “I’m sorry. I just grabbed the first thing…it must’ve gotten mixed up in the wash.”

Alex just nods and sets down his water and takes a step forward. The shirt is just a little tight across Hank’s chest. His new body is corded with muscle and raw power and it’s mesmerizing to see the light cotton stretch around Hank’s biceps.

He clears his throat and, still looking at the shirt, and says to Hank, “Looks good on you.”

There’s a stammered, “Thank you.” And Hank sets his coffee down and turns fully to Alex looking for all he is like he’s about to remove himself from whatever is happening. “I can give it back.”

“I could take it off for you.” Alex says and like that he’s blown months of cover. He just came right out and said what he really wanted to and out of all the things he could have said in this one, important moment it just had to have sexual connotations.

Hank flounders for a moment, “I – what?”

It’s too late to go back now so Alex just runs with it, “I said,” he half-whispers, licking his lips, “that I could take it off of you, if you want.”

“What is this, Alex?” Hank asks, confused and more than a little tense.

Alex steps forward and reaches out to touch Hank’s chest, noting the little flinch Hank makes, and rests his hand there light as a feather. He can feel the fur beneath the thin shirt, soft and thick, and realizes just how warm Hank is now.

His own body is so cold anymore, his mutation taking up energy from anywhere, leaving him chilly and exhausted more often than he’d like to admit. So he’s more than happy to find that Hank’s the equivalent to a walking furnace now.

Hank is standing still, assessing, yellow eyes tracking over Alex’s face like he’s searching for some kind of incongruous joke or lie. Alex is trying his best to keep his hand from wandering because _dear lord_ he just has to feel that fur between his fingers.

Alex stares back at Hank, smirking just a little but not at all how he usually does. This one is soft and fond with just the right amount of lust thrown in for good measure. He doesn’t break eye contact but does step a little closer and ghosts his hand over Hank’s chest to his shoulder and down his arm. Hank’s tense, eyeing Alex like he needs to be puzzled out, and manages to look a combination of confused, alarmed, and a shy amount of hopeful.

“What are you doing?” Hank manages while Alex’s hand curls around his arm to rub circles into the blue hair on the inside of his wrist.

“Well,” Alex laughs a little, “I’m touching you. I hoped that much was obvious.”

Hank frowns, “I know. I’m asking why you’re touching me.”

Alex feels a little like backing off now, unsure, but keeps his hand on Hank’s arm anyway. He takes in a breath and searches Hank’s eyes for a moment before asking, “Do you not want me to?”

“That’s not an answer, Alex.” Hank huffs. Alex pulls Hank’s large hand up to his face and lets it cup his cheek. It’s pleasantly warm and just the barest amount of rough and calloused. Hank swallows and the pressure on Alex’s cheek changes, goes a little harder, and his thumb absently smooths across his cheek bone. “Alex?” He tries again, sounding like he’s just starting to get a little wrecked.

Alex hums and closes his eyes, “I wanted to.” His stomach is doing flips and he can feel the warm flush of a blush forming across the bridge of his nose and he takes a chance, turning his head into Hank’s palm to kiss the center of it. "I miss you."

Hank’s hand flexes a little and there’s a soft intake of breath and then, suddenly, there’s another large hand on Alex. It’s wide and solid and warm and resting just above his hip.

“If this is a joke…” Hank begins, sounding unsure and tentative. Alex isn’t having any of it.

So he opens his eyes and locks onto Hank’s yellow ones and says, “Not a joke.”

“Why?” Hank asks, clearly confused. “Have you seen me?”

“Oh, I’ve been doing nothing but looking at you for a while now.” Alex smirks again and snakes his free hand up Hank’s chest.

“Why?” Hank repeats.

Alex sighs and steps in close, eliminating any space between them. Hank growls a little and Alex can feel the reverberations in his hand. Alex is close to purring himself at this point and aware more than ever about the tightening of his pants.

“You’re still beautiful. Sexy. I’ve been dying to get my hands on you for weeks.”

“Even though I’m…like this?” Hank says looking down at himself.

Alex huffs and rolls his hips up and forward, grinding on Hank’s thigh and finds himself moaning just a little and loving the height difference, “What do you think?”

Hank makes a small sound in the back of his throat that he’s obviously trying to swallow back. Alex decides to play a bit dirty and moves his head to nuzzle into the fine, soft hairs at Hank’s wrist, pressing an open-mouthed kiss there while rolling his hips again.

There’s the growl again and Hank gives his own roll of the hips to match up with Alex, gripping his hip hard enough to bruise.

He’s not really sure about who moves first. All he knows is that his hand moves up to grip behind Hank’s neck and Hank's hand cradles his head and now they’re kissing. It’s a little rushed, a little feverish, and Alex is feeling like he’s going to catch fire with the way Hank is moving against him and the great warm bulk of flexing muscle keeping him in place.

They find a rhythm soon enough and it takes Alex’s back hitting granite to realize that he’s been moved – so effortlessly it’s intoxicating – to be pinned against the counter. It’s all stuttered breath, sighs, and low moans rumbling in throats and Alex is finding himself more and more likely to just fall to his knees where he is, propriety be damned.

“Stop.” Hank says, breathless, gripping Alex’s hip hard enough to stifle movement. Alex makes a displeased sound in the back of his throat and Hank huffs out a small chuckle. “I’m not doing this here where anyone can see. I want you all to myself.”

Alex is too astounded to say anything more than a choked, “Ok.”

And then they’re moving, Hank practically carrying Alex as they wind their way through the school to the closest room – Alex’s. Through the haze and bubbling excitement all Alex can think about is how happy he is that his shirt got mixed up in the laundry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just...I love this pairing so much.

**Author's Note:**

> Written in all in one morning, guys! I love this pairing so much. Stick around for chapter 2 to see our boy's relationship bloom.


End file.
